The Kerala Exchange
Yes, I've arrived safely. Yes, I'm healthy. Yes, I'm having some amazing experiences. And no, I'm not drinking the tap water. It has been about five weeks since I first arrived in India, and already I'm wondering where the time has gone.
Many of you asked what my task would be in India, and I'm afraid I wasn't able to give you a very specific answer before I left. Still, I'm not entirely sure that I could write a concise job description, but perhaps a description of what I've done so far will offer some answers.
As I disembarked from the plane in Cochin, I stepped down directly onto the tarmac, my first steps on Indian soil. My senses overwhelmed by the thickness of the air, the rich smell of the nearby forest, I knew that I had truly entered a foreign land. Anxious to commemorate our maiden voyage, Beth began to film our reactions. A man with a large gun yelled, "No camera!" We've truly arrived.
Our first weeks in India were spent together in Aluva, learning our first lessons in adaptation. We renounced our silverware and anxiously began eating with our hands. This presented my first cultural dilemma. According to rules of cleanliness, only the right hand should be used for eating. As a southpaw, this task presented some good laughs for all. Imagine writing with your non-dominant hand. Now, imagine using that same awkward hand to round up dozens of grains of rice, form them into a ball, and somehow shoot this ball through a two inch opening in your face without dropping the whole ensemble right into your lap. Imagine tearing pieces of curry-covered chapati with this hand. With some practice I've learned to manage, but there were times when simply dunking my face into the pile of rice seemed both more efficient, and less embarrassing.
After our group time was complete I made my way to C.M.S. College, my home this year. The college is the oldest in Kerala, founded in 1817, and has some truly marvelous views from its hilltop location (can I get an Um Ya Ya?) By the time I arrived I had apparently already earned a reputation as a "music man." I guess I did bring my mandolin with me. This reputation, though perhaps a little generous, has really been an entry point for many interactions with the staff, students, and community members: I'm singing in one student group and one adult group, I've taken on several mandolin and guitar students, I hang out with heavy metal band members (they're actually very wholesome guys), I accompanied an award-winning singer at a large intercollegiate competition, I've attended and participated in two choir festivals and I've sung popular American songs for at least a dozen classrooms. Music has truly proven its cross-cultural merit. I've met many of my close friends through these music events and these endeavors often involve a bit of traveling around Kerala too.
In the classroom I have some regular duties as well. During my first week here I visited classes indiscriminately. Teachers from all departments were anxious for the students to interact with a "saip" (white foreigner guy). I gave talks on family structure in America, the effects of globalization, careers in journalism, love relationships, and conversational German. But I was unable to escape the music. We could be discussing the history of social reform in American when suddenly a voice would cry out from the crowded rows of students, "Sing a song!" This single voice quickly becomes a chorus and I'm forced to give in. "My Heart Will Go On" is the most often requested song.
Nearby the college there is an elementary school (LP school) that was founded by one of the early Christian missionaries. Once a week I spend time with the third and fourth grade students there. They also love songs. These kids learn with remarkable speed and sing with impressive gusto. Their mixed Malayali/British accents are particularly cute when "Bind us Together" becomes "Bahnd us Tahgethah."
Next week my work will also combine kids and music as I head off to a youth retreat with the Mar Thoma Church, a protestant outgrowth of the Syrian Orthodox Church.
This is only the outline of an ever-growing mural of experiences, so check out my other articles and my blog for more details.
Start spreadin' the news
"Excuse me, could you sing a song please?" This phrase seems to be one of the standard greetings in Kerala. It took me off guard at first, but I eventually enjoyed the opportunity to randomly break into song. So, when Rijo, Vivian, Angelin and Gem asked me if I could teach them an American song, this request was not particularly shocking. However, when I enthusiastically obliged, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
These four C.M.S. College students needed to learn a "western" song for the upcoming Mahatma Ghandi University Silver Jubilee Festival, a grand arts competition with participation from over 10,000 students, and they only had a couple of days to prepare. For some reason "Country Roads" by John Denver came to mind, so I sang it for them. They loved it, and they learned the four vocal parts with impressive speed. Though they sounded great, the song lacked a certain twang. Luckily, I brought a mandolin with me for just such an occasion. Angelin quickly picked up the task of learning the mandolin, and within a couple hours they mastered this American classic.
The day of the group competition came, I was left behind to attend a conference, but the students marched forward confidently. Despite a truly brilliant effort, they were beat out by some "talentless hot girls." Sometimes life just isn't fair. But all was not lost, Vivian also competed in the solo violin competition and won second prize.
The next day I was able to attend the contest in Pathanamathita for Angelin's vocal solo performance. She was allowed an accompanist and asked me if I could join her with my mandolin. I gladly obliged. With superb confidence, Angelin belted "Better than the Riches." As she sang, the crowd began clapping along with the syncopated rhythm. I strummed the final chord and Angelin took off on a soulful a capella coda. The crowd exploded into applause.
Long story short, she won first prize. After the announcement, I was swept up by the whirlwind of photographers who came to chronicle her victory. As far as I know, our photo landed in at least three newspapers. The photo above was taken a couple of days later at a C.M.S. College awards ceremony, honoring the students who placed at the event. Additional photos from the event and the awards ceremony, as well as videos of the group song and Angelin's solo, can be found on my blog.
In the beginning…
The feeling an American gets traveling to India can be compared to childbirth. I don't mean to say that it is immensely painful, though certainly there are some challenges, but rather I mean that nothing anyone says can prepare you for the experience. Like childbirth, it opens up a brand new world that you've never experienced before, and it changes your life.
I don't mean to be dramatic, after all, I've only been here a month, but already I'm amazed by some of the experiences I've had. The very first night I arrived on campus, before I even had time to unpack my bags, I was approached by some of the graduate students (PG students) who lived in the hostel near my room. Without even a knock on the door, I was suddenly in the midst of eight smiling Malayali faces. I was overwhelmed, but also intrigued. Without wasting any time they began asking the important questions, where was I from, who is in my family, what are my hobbies, do I have a girlfriend, etc. To my surprise, we quickly transitioned to more complex issues, such a love marriage versus arranged marriage.
We talked on into the evening hours, and this was only the first night! Though I was initially overwhelmed, the opportunity for such wonderful conversation right from the start was a blessing. Later that night, as I lay awake swatting mosquitoes, I pondered what my response would be in their position. Well, to be honest, I probably would watch the foreigner from a distance, make a few speculative observations and move on (not out of a lack of curiosity, but out of a lack of nerve, I think.) An American might say this response is out of consideration for another's privacy, but the response is also out of a fear of the unknown. For the students I met, this fear did not exist. They openly embraced the unknown American, and it was to my great benefit. The first night in a new place can be very frightening and lonely. Loneliness was certainly not an emotion I experienced on my first night. My time here is still in its infancy, but this culture of curiosity has all but eliminated the birth pangs
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